Summary: Having just returned from burning the Long Zii’s opium supply with Young Jun and Ah Sahm, Bolo returns home to you. You tell him that you missed him and it has a much greater effect than you thought it would,
A/N: This is for @icy-spicy cause it’s her ✨Birthday✨ and she’s the world’s #1 Bolo simp! Hope you enjoy, lovely!!
When Bolo came home that night, his clothes smelt of burnt fibres and blood. He didn’t even let you embrace him until his jacket was off, fearing bloodying your nightgown.
But once he’s rid himself of his jacket, he engulfed you.
His large hand held your head to his chest as he wrapped an arm around you, keeping you close. He sighed, relieved to finally have you in arms again before he pressed a kiss to your hair.
“You miss me?”
He’d only been gone a few hours but given the blood on his clothing and the way his shoulders sagged, it was safe to say it felt like a lot more than a few hours to him.
“Course I did, handsome,” You answered, gazing up at him "I always do." And he was handsome, especially so tonight. His hair hung loosely on one side and you had to resist the urge to smooth it back into place with the rest of his slicked back hair.
“That why you wore this flimsy little thing? For me?” He asked, running his hand over the thin sleeve of your nightdress.
“Maybe,” you replied, pressing a kiss to the underside of his strong jaw.
“Well, it would be rude of me not to accept such an offering now wouldn’t it?”
No sooner had his words left his mouth did he smile down at you. His eyes held a knowing, an understanding of the fact that you wanted him.
His lips were on yours as you stretched up a little to reach him but before you could ask him to lean down a little, he had your back pressed against the nearest wall.
Much to your dismay, he pulled back from you. But that disappointment was very quickly replaced with confusion as he wasted no time in sinking down to his knees before you. When he found the hem of your nightgown and began dragging it up the expanse of your legs, you understood what his plan was.
He raised it up over your legs and over your waist, keeping it bunched there in one hand so he could get a good look at you. You clenched your thighs together but he simply grazed his fingers over the inside of your thigh and you let them fall open out of instinct.
“Good girl,” he chuckled, reaching for the band of your underwear before working it down each leg individually so it fell deftly at your ankles.
“Have you been thinking about me?” He asked, dark brown eyes looking up at you, “Cause you’re fuckin’ soaked already and I ain’t even touched you.”
He was right, you were soaked. But you couldn’t help it. His words and his demeanour when he came home that night made your insides churn with a need for his attention, his touch. Anything.
“May I? Since you’ve clearly missed me so much?”
You nodded and he smiled up at you again, pressing a kiss to your exposed hip before mouthing his way over your thigh. He stopped to sink his teeth in a little, only a love bite he’d left there a couple of days before. It looked like it needed a little revamping. A nice reminder of him for whenever you might just so happen to look down at your bare thigh.
Once he was satisfied with the bloom on your soft skin, he continued on until he reached your pussy. He let his breath ghost over the supple, soaking flesh. But didn’t touch it. Not yet.
“Spread your legs, baby. Let me get a proper look at you.”
You caught your lips between your teeth at his words and did as you were told. As soon as you did, Bolo dragged his tongue along the entire length of your pussy, smearing your wetness right up the slit.
“Shit,” You cried as he did it again.
He wanted your entire mound to be slick and easy to get his tongue around before he truly began to devour you.
“You taste fuckin beautiful, as always.”
After he spoke, he buried his face between your legs so you couldn’t see anything below his nose as you looked down.
His movements were sloppy. Not calculated in any capacity. He fucked and he ate with his heart, doing whatever seemed right and good at the moment. But he paid special attention to the movements that had your hips bucking against his face, your hand tangling in his hair.
He tugged one leg over his shoulder, then the other. His hands braced beneath your legs to keep you upright. And you firmly anchored your fingers in his hair, gripping on for dear life.
You knew he wouldn’t drop you, even if he did lose his grip you’d only tumble two feett or so. But the danger of your feet being entirely off the ground added to the movements of his tongue. It felt more like him.
But then he was lifting you and standing as he did, your back sliding up the cold, hard wall.
“Bolo?!” You cried out, worried about precisely what he was doing.
“I’ve got you, princess. Don’t worry.”
His tone was assuring as was the solidness as he stood to his full height. He planted himself like a tree, bracing you against the wall as he ate your pussy.
The new angle let him get deeper, let his tongue caress you in such a way that had your walls clenching without you meaning them to.
And you clung onto him like your life depended on it. Hooking your legs around him so your heels dug into his shoulders and thoroughly anchoring your fingers in his messy hair. You had to dig your fingers deep, past the gel he used and almost to the root to get a firm grip.
It was the display of strength that had your words catching and dissolving into moans. Yes, the wall supported you but Bolo still had to hold you there.
His broad shoulders were good for something other than burying hatchets in skulls, you supposed.
A particularly pronounced cry from you had him chuckling and pulling off of you for a moment to gaze up at you with eyes swimming with love.
“I know, baby. I know,” he smiled, “You gonna be a good girl and come for me?”
You nodded, head banging against the wall as you did, desperate to find that sweet release.
“Come on now, use your voice.”
You breath came in short, sharp bursts as he returned to eating your pussy. But his eyes still gazed up eyes you expectantly,
So you tried, gathering every desperate, clawing ounce of strength left in your gut to speak.
“Yes!”
And in a few moments you were.
With the way he lapped and rolled his tongue around your clit and melted through your folds, you came hard enough that you had to muffle your cries with the back of one shaking hand.
He didn’t let up until your thighs stopped shaking, stopped pressing eagerly against either side of his face
When he did let up, only because you whimpered in overstimulation, he didn’t set you down. Instead he pulled you closer to him and carried you over to the bed, setting you down atop the covers.
After wiping his chin, he kissed your forehead before stepping back and getting undressed for bed.
He lay down beside you and tucked you into his side, seeing how heavy your eyes were becoming. And you snuggled into his warmth, his vastness and his solidness.
“Think I need to tell you that I missed you more often,” you mumbled, setting your head to rest against his shoulder.
“It’s your funeral,” he replied.
And you laughed then, quietly so as not to make too much noise given the time of night. Not like you hadn’t just been crying out with little to no regard for the other Hop Wei trying to sleep down the hall.
The closest thing he had to a mother figure was his first nanny Fen-Fang. They were so close and she’d dance with him when he was a toddler. When YJ was four Fen-Fang suddenly returned to China without even saying goodbye. He felt abandoned and never allow himself to bond with another nanny again in fear they’d leave him like she did.
When Young Jun was a little boy he attended Chinatown’s oriental public school. He was a troublemaker and got into school yard fights. He was disruptive in class and would insult the teacher.
Like a little Draco Malfoy, he’d often threaten the kids that if they didn’t give up their lunch money then his father would have their families killed.
FJ pulled his son out of the oriental school. Stating that he didn’t like what those White Devils were teaching him. So instead he set YJ up with a private tutor.
Because of his pride and hate for white people, Father Jun didn’t have YJ learn English. This is why Young Jun only has a basic understanding of English.
Young Jun has always been a brilliant kid. He especially excels at Chinese literature and mathematics.
Father Jun indoctrinated his son and filled him with hatered for the rivals of the Hop Wei rivals at a young age. He never truly understood why he should hate them but he did because his father did.
He got skinned in when he was 13. However he wasn’t used in combat or hits. He usually did drug dealing and helped with counting inventory and profits.
This is also when YJ started training with knives. He’s a master with anything sharp enough to kill.
Young Jun became interested in going to college when he turned 16. He saw how all of the Men of the Chinese Benevolent Association sent their sons to duck colleges.
Young Jun wanted to study literature and become a director at Chinatown’s theater.
However he soon realized he was locked in to the Hop Wei for life after his father forced him to prove his loyalty by killing a wife of a man who didn’t pay his debts.
This is when he started feeling like he had no other choices in life than the Hop Wei. He gave up on his dreams and dedicated his life to the Tong.
He absolutely idolized Bolo as a teenager. He wanted to be just like him and followed him around like a lost puppy, which annoyed Bolo a bit. He basically became YJ big brother and would watch over him more than FJ.
Rating: T (mentions of injury, brief mention of blood)
Word count: 900
Summary: You wake up in a room you don't recognise. The last thing you remember was walking past the Chinese New Year parade. You awake to see Bolo seated, asleep and waiting at your bedside. Reader is gn.
A/N: Merry Christmas @icy-spicy you beautiful bitch (affectionate)!!! Hope you enjoy, you absolutely wonderful human being! :D
“Bolo?” You called out softly. No reply.
“Bolo?” You called again, voice straining as you did, a heavy croak in your parched throat.
His eyes snapped open and he reached for your hand in an instant. He gave your fingers a gentle squeeze as he leaned forward so he was closer to you, wiping the sleep from his tired eyes with his palm.
“You’re awake,” he spoke quietly, his voice still rough with sleep as he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, “How are you feeling, baby?”
“Good,” you replied, although that wasn’t quite true.
Bolo sat in a chair at your bedside. There was blood crusted ever so slightly on his forehead and his clothes were dusty like he too had taken a fall.
He took your answer in, knowing you were only saying so for his sake. But he nodded, sparing you from elaborating as he brought your hand towards his soft mouth. He pressed each knuckle to his lips, just barely letting the velvety skin skim over them. He was far too distracted by you smoothing the hair off his face.
It had fallen down to hang loosely against his cheek at some point since you’d seen him last. Now instead of being gelled back as it usually was, it was soft and smooth and loose. The strands glided through your fingers with ease.
“I’ve been so worried about you,” he told you as he moved your hand from his lips to instead grasp it in both of his. His eyes, usually so stern and determined, held so much worry, so much guilt about what happened and you wanted nothing more than to soothe him, even in your bed-ridden state.
“It wasn’t your fault,” you reminded him, “And I won’t hear any more about it, okay?”
He nodded but his eyes darted between yours and literally anywhere else in the darkened room. He didn’t believe you, not truly anyways.
“Okay?” You asked again, knowing he was never going to forgive himself for what happened. But you did. You didn’t blame him and he had to know that.
He was doing his duty, protecting Father Jun from the blast as was expected of him. You were simply passing by the Hop Wei when it happened, your gaze caught his as it always did and he took longer to react to the TNT thrown beneath his feet. You hadn’t even been paying much attention to the New Year’s parade or anything else, just passing through when the blast hit.
“Alright,” he replied, eyes closing as you traced over his cheek with only the lightest of touch.
“Can you sit up for me, baby?” He asked and you could so you did. Your injuries weren’t in any way severe from the blast, you’d only caught the tail end of it. You were thrown back a few feet, thankfully you sustained no injuries from the blast itself but rather the concrete ground you fell on so harshly.
He sat himself on the bed behind you, one foot still bracing on the floor for balance. And he tucked the covers in around your body before carefully bringing you back towards him. Your head settled back against his shoulder as his arms encircled you, caged you in their warmth.
Looking around the room, you had no idea where you were really. You didn’t recognise the fixtures or the sheets. The room itself was dark with minimal, almost scarily sparse yet golden lighting.
But with Bolo there? It didn’t really matter. You knew you were safe.
The material of his shirt wasn’t the softest, its creases ironed to a point past perfection. But his body was warm, it was comforting and sturdy as it always was.
He held you as though he had missed you, like he hadn’t seen you for years.
You curled into his side and let your fingers trail over his shirt, taking the jet black material between your fingers and toying with it. His lips found your forehead, then your hair. He rested his cheek against yours and closed his eyes at the feeling of having you in his arms. He was so worried, so desperately worried for you. His mind was running through all kinds of scenarios, all of them the worst case possible.
And the guilt? It was eating him alive.
But for now, he focused on holding you, helping you rest and feel safe in his arms. The two of you could talk later when you looked less like you hadn’t slept for a week. Your body was so tired. He could tell even just from the way you held yourself like carrying your own body in and of itself was an effort.
So he just did the only thing he could think of and let you fall back asleep against him, let you feel comforted by his strong embrace as your body began the slow process of healing.
You would ask for the details of precisely what happened in the morning. For now, you just needed him and he provided the perfect place to rest your heavy head.
